Phantom Arson
by So Zetta Slow
Summary: Promises are meant to be kept. Got it Memorized?


Author note: Hey there, kiddies! Forgot about me, I bet. You all probably thought I was past the point of no return. Now, that's a big, fat lie. I'm here to present you a crappy oneshot, aren't I?

Hah! This story has a sort of morbid feel…what was I on when I wrote this? Oh, it's Zemyx Day! Let's celebrate by…reading some AkuRoku! -shot out of catapult and ricocheted like a pinball through solar system-

Disclaimer: Pft, I wish.

**«-- ° º ° --»**

…**« Phantom Arson «…**

…a familiar spark of a familiar friend…

**«-- ° º ° --»**

The ghosts of the night whistled and laughed; teased and haunted. The phantoms of life's hourglass raced with ferine agility in their sinful chariots drawn by nightmarish, ghastly horses.

This macabre thought unceasingly found its way into Roxas's innocent thoughts whenever he was sent to vacate the allies of The World That Never Was from the ruthless shadow heartless. An unpleasant thought, Roxas knew, but they gripped him tight and only let go when it was all over.

But this time was different. Roxas wasn't sent here, and Roxas knew there was something weird about the number of swarming buggers. The black pests were _placed_ here. By the people he had betrayed.

"A pathetic way to try and stop me from leaving." Roxas thought sadistically.

The motivated blond skillfully danced around the premises, slicing the doomed, black creatures with proficient ease. It's a simple game: Tag. You're dead. Roxas always thought of it as a childish game as he fleet-footed around in a dance of fatal ballet. One misstep for the heartless meant a point for Number XIII.

"Five down. Infinite hell to go." Roxas thought optimistically pessimistically. The blond swung his heavyweight, twin keyblades with skill that would put even the most legendary samurai to shame.

Roxas continued to diminish the seemingly infinite population at an extraordinary pace, but the heart-keepers refused to die out. Roxas moaned in annoyance as he fleeted around the alley, trying his hardest to make quick, clean work of the irritants.

Roxas valiantly stood his ground as heartless swarmed on him from every angle, trapping him like he had done to them countless times—in a dusty, dark corner. A bead of sweat slid down Roxas's neck and he shivered—half from the chilling, cold, stormy night air and half from fright. He was exhausted, but he _knew_ he couldn't stop. These heartless were simply an obstacle between Roxas and fate. All Roxas needed to do was learn to fly and everything would be just peachy. Or, the more _reasonable_ solution: defeat them quickly. Roxas laughed bitterly.

"What a joke!" Roxas mused harshly as he vigorously kicked at the heartless that were curiously crawling up his leg. Thought of the Organization suddenly invaded his mind, but Roxas tried pushing them away and make them secondary. But they continued to haunt him.

Roxas knew for a fact that he couldn't go back—not ever—after he had _practically_ broke his best friend's heart when he had decided on leaving. It deeply pained him, and probably forever would. The look on Axel's face when Roxas left—it was a miracle why Roxas still had the will to leave.

"_No one would miss me." _

"_That's not true…I would."_

_Lies._ If Axel loved Roxas so much, he should have just said so. Then, things might have been different. But Roxas was past the point of no return.

Axel. Roxas missed him dearly, but his fate was inevitable. Roxas had tried running away from it many times, but in the end, it won. And Axel couldn't have stopped him even if the pyro had strapped him down and beat him unconscious.

The heartless were multiplying by the dozens. A brave little one straddled Roxas's waist and refused to budge. Its yellow, gleaming eyes stared blankly into Roxas's blue orbs. The _former_ Organization member shut his eyes ad screamed in exasperation.

"What the _hell!_ Axel! Why aren't you _here_? Why aren't you _helping_ me? Why aren't you-—" Roxas choked at the desperation in his voice. He whimpered. Axel wasn't here. Roxas had left him and Axel probably never wanted to see him—hear his name—ever again. But Roxas—he wished he hadn't left. He regretted ever causing his beloved redhead the pain. The _excruciating_ pain that they both felt on that solemn, life-changing night. Roxas continued to scream for Axel. No response.

A familiar spark refused to ignite. Roxas's "heart" sank. Telepathy terminated.

As time passed, the golden-haired boy felt himself gasping for breath with strenuous effort. A pair of pointy, inhuman fingers choked the fifteen-year-old. Roxas's gaze moved south and he gaped. The boy couldn't see any part of himself for everything was cloaked by black, chirping creepy-crawlies.

Panicking and afraid of what would become of him if he stalled for just one more second, Roxas thrashed about violently. He occasionally hit his head against the solid, concrete wall behind him, but Roxas's ignored to acute headache and continued to fight for his life.

"Axel, it would be a _really_ good time to bring your flare!" Roxas thought uneasily and after a few moments, the helpless boy found himself face down on the ground. His wrists were pinned down tight; Roxas felt claws digging into them and soon the smell of blood floated into his nose.

"Axel…" Roxas wistfully mumbled, finally mustering up the strength to pull his formerly limp arms free. Roxas threw his arms over his eyes.

"Make it quick, you guys." Roxas miserably croaked as his voice crackled. "All my efforts—all _those_ memories—they're going to all be gone in just a few, grueling moments…" Roxas's eyes slid closed and his shaking body tensed.

Roxas suddenly felt disconnected. He gasped and wheezed to prevent suffocation. A blurry, unreadable image slowly zoomed into place right in front of the blond's conscience. Roxas was mystified, but the nightmare rolled on.

Roxas was lying on death's doormat. The devilish demons that worked as messengers chortled and snorted and shrilled like banshees. They enticed Roxas into succumbing to their sinful lord. They pushed him. Roxas pushed back.

A distorted, demented pointy appendage tapped impatiently at the doorbell once more, snickering in a deranged way. Foamy spit frothed at the creature's mouth. Roxas whimpered and squirmed, but some unknown, supernatural gravity force kept him from running away.

Roxas could only hope that Death wasn't home.

With all these happy-go-lucky thoughts, I'll be flying alongside Peter Pan in no time!" Roxas bitterly thought, though it was subliminal.

Footsteps approached suddenly, but Roxas couldn't distinguish them. Plus, his strength was at zero and it was tiresome to open his eyes.

Gradually, the weight pinning down the golden-locked boy seemed to lighten. Roxas dared to open his eyes and was grateful when he did. All around him, pink, holographic hearts glided skyward—toward Kingdom Hearts. As the hearts rose higher and higher as if being drawn in by a magnetic force emitted from Kingdom Hearts, a particular heart caught Roxas's attention. He smiled and laughed slightly. The heart was far behind the others, and it seemed to be blindly bumping into skyscrapers as it slowly disappeared upward. The sight was mesmerizing, and Roxas almost—_almost_ forgot that he had gained back his paralyzed mobility.

"Silly little heart. I bet you'll belong to Axel."

Roxas stood, finally taking his wide-open eyes from Kingdom Hearts. He dusted himself off instinctively, dismissing Oblivion and Oathkeeper. Roxas looked around curiously for his unknown hero.

In rhythm, to the beat of the down pouring rain, Roxas's featherlike steps ambled out of the alley and into another part of the vast area. Roxas pulled down his hood, regarding the fact that the rain felt like pullets upon his soft face.

The possible candidates of Roxas's liberator took hold of his mind and sent all his earlier worries and thoughts down the drain. Now with a one-tracked mind, Number XIII stood in the middle of The World That Never Was, pondering with great intensity.

Footfalls—sounding much like the ones before—echoed through the night and sifted into Roxas's awaiting ears. Roxas tensed. Though he wanted it to be Axel more than anything, there was the possible chance it could be an enemy. Roxas called his trusty keyblades to his side, and he composed his body into his infamous duel stance—the one Axel had grown so fond of. They sparred playfully everyday.

But that was back when everything was right.

And now everything was wrong.

Suddenly, Roxas gasped. "Axel! Axel, it was you…it _was _you. I _know_ it."

Roxas's morose face shot skyward and he closed his eyes once more. The rain felt like paintballs, but Roxas ignored them. Images of Number VIII's heroic actions were replaying like a dusty, black and white video. He suddenly saw a glimpse of fire. Roxas's lips curved into a smile.

"Axel, I didn't forget our promise. And I know you won't either. We'll meet again—in the next life. I'll look for you—and this time—I won't leave you again."

Roxas's oceanic blue orbs flickered open. Reenergized with a _new_ motivation—to find Axel in the next life—Roxas nonchalantly pulled up his black, soaked hood and concealed his identity.

Roxas's cold, wet lips curled into a lopsided grin. "Wait for me. Got it Memorized?"

**--/--**

"Silly. You know me, Rox—but maybe you forgot. You're good at _forgetting_, anyways. I'll probably forget that promise when I get up tomorrow morning—but I'll try not too. Heh, no promises there, kid." Axel chuckled slightly.

The pyromaniac spun his chakrams in cycles, skillfully morphing his hands into different positions to avoid dropping them. Flames flared at his fingertips and danced to the rhythm of Axel's hands. Axel smirked from the nostalgic thought of Roxas.

"But I _do_ promise you this: I'll _never_ forget you, Rox. After all, you _stole_ my heart. And I really don't think you're going to give it up so easily."

After a few moments of silence, Axel stopped his juggling and rested his head against a nearby pole.

"See ya later, Roxas."


End file.
